The Politics of Marriage
by Misbehavin
Summary: Love and the impact of the presidency on the marriage of Rod & Mackenzie. Each chapter explores a different episode. Ch. 4 Happy Birthday Madame President, coauthored by Denini.
1. Mac's Decision: Rubie Dubidoux

**THE POLITICS OF MARRIAGE**

"... bedroom politics continue to be more tempestuous than national politics." N. Weber, _Harper's Weekly_, 23 Aug. 1976.

**Author's Note:** This story will consist of separate vignette's addressing different episodes of the show. This chapter fills in the gap between Mackenzie and Rod's first two conversations in _Rubie Dubidoux and the Brown Bound Express_. It begins with Rod's plea that Mac make him an official part of her administration and ends with her ultimate response the following morning. One other thing: Mac's thought concerning women and history is a paraphrase of Laurel Thatcher Ulrich's statement: "Well behaved women seldom make history."

**1. MAC'S DECISION**

_**A. The Ultimatum**_

"_You asked me to stay, so I stayed."_

"_I'm not firing Jim Gardner."_

"_I'm not asking for his job. Call it whatever you want: Political Director, Senior Advisor, Deputy Chief of Got Your Back. But make me a part of this Administration, Mac–officially. Or this just isn't going to work: professionally, personally."_

Mac frowned as she watched her husband retreat into the bathroom. She sat down on their bed and pondered Rod's demand. She hated feeling backed into a corner and his ultimatum put her there. And she hated discord in her personal relationships.

But this confrontation was a long-time coming. Her sudden ascension to the presidency had meant major adjustments for each of them. However, it had been particularly challenging for him. Her job was, at least, well-defined. His role, on the other hand, was something totally new. The White House as an institution was resistant to change. And Rod, as the inaugural First Gentleman, was proving equally resistant to the institution. She just didn't know what to do about it.

And the truth was she didn't want to do anything about it. She didn't have time. The presidency was all-consuming and left her exhausted most of the time. Nothing was simple anymore. Everything was complicated. The demands on her seemed to come from everywhere and everyone. Part of her wanted to scream. But that would require an emotional outburst and Mackenzie Allen did not give in to emotional outbursts.

When Rod reemerged from the bathroom, she asked him flatly, "Are we going to argue again?"

"No," he replied somewhat testily, "I've had my say."

Mac didn't know what to say so she just stared at him. Rod joined her on the bed before speaking further. He looked at her intently as if trying to read the thoughts hidden behind the glare.

Finally, he said, "Look Mackenzie, I want to support you in every way I can. I know you've got the most demanding–most intense–job in the world. I'm very proud of you. But you make it difficult when you shut me out. And... you need to understand that sometime soon decisions are going to have to be made because–no matter how much I love you–I just can't spend potentially the next ten years of my life doing _only_ a job that leaves me uncomfortable and unhappy."

She nodded. But she had no answer for him–and he knew it. So he stood and commented, "Nothing is going to change tonight. So why don't you get ready for bed while I check on the kids, and then if you want we can talk about the gun control bill."

Mac was both relieved and frustrated at this suggestion. On the one hand, she didn't want to fight–particularly when she had no answers. But on the other hand, it aggravated her to no end that he would throw down such an ultimatum and then shut down any further dialogue. Relief ultimately won out though and she got herself ready for bed.

By the time she finished in the bathroom Rod had returned and was turning down their bed. The tension between them was still sizzling. Mackenzie thought to herself that generally there were two ways to deal with such tension: fight or have sex (or perhaps fight and then have sex). But tonight all she wanted was silence and sleep. She wondered if her normal routine for winding-down would work. She hoped so because she desperately needed the sleep.

Rod must have noticed something in her appearance because his look changed and he seemed to relax. He took her hand and walked her to the other side of the bed–her side of the bed.

She was slightly surprised when he unbuttoned her pajama top and gently removed it from her shoulders. However, she was more surprised by his subsequent kiss followed immediately by his command for her to lay face down on the bed. Physically exhausted and emotionally weary, she readily complied. Rod turned off the light and then sat down to the side of where she lay.

Mac's first thought after she lay down was that it was nice to have one place where she wasn't required to take charge. Rod had never been intimidated _by_ her: physically, intellectually or otherwise. Yet at the same time, he was never intimidating _to_ her. He may refuse to walk behind her but he likewise had never insisted on walking in front of her.

Mac blissfully welcomed his kneading hands on her back, her shoulders, her neck. In spite of her earlier agitation with him and his demand, she felt herself begin to relax and her thoughts begin to wander. She had always loved Rod's hands–big and strong yet generally caring and sensitive. So symbolic of the man, she thought. But she still had no answer to their current dilemma. And part of her–unfairly–resented having to spend the energy to come up with one.

Rod had made many sacrifices for her–especially the past ten years as her career had come to dominate and he had taken on more responsibility for the daily routines of their family life. She knew she hadn't been as thoughtful of him as she should be.

Her husband had always been so much better at expressing emotions–love, passion, and even, at times, anger or frustration. She, on the other hand, would typically bury the more problematic emotions behind a wall of pride and detachment. Rod understood this and had never really held it against her. Rather, when he considered it to be necessary, he would break through that wall and force her to deal with the issues.

He had done this tonight... and with the baseball job. She had mishandled that situation but had just been too proud to admit it. He hadn't gone looking for the job; and Horace's comments about being a wuss had wounded him deeply. Because of these incidences, she had recently discovered just how discomfitted he was by his new role. She abandoned that thought. It was a lie. Her knowledge of Rod's growing sense of frustration wasn't new–she just hadn't wanted to deal with it. Mac really couldn't blame him for what he felt. Wouldn't she feel the same way if placed in his position?

Yet instead of being pleased for him when the baseball opportunity presented itself, she had felt threatened and had–using his earlier conversation with Kelly as an excuse–gone on the attack. Which, of course, had caused Rod to respond in kind. Even then, however, he had put aside their differences and offered her the advice which ultimately led to the aversion of a potentially disastrous environmental and constitutional crisis when that oil tanker had sprung a leak off the coast of Florida.

And once Rod decided to take the commissioner job–instead of directly expressing her concerns about the impact his decision would have on their relationship and on their children–and rather than admitting to him that she needed him around–she again retreated behind that familiar fortress of detachment. Looking back on the morning he was to sign the employment contract in New York (the same morning the contents of the Evan Hutchins book leaked out) she had basically wished him a good trip as if he were a mere acquaintance... rather than the most important person in her life. She had never even offered him the simplest words of praise or congratulations.

His unequivocal sacrifice of that dream job in order to protect her aspirations and ambitions had touched her deeply–particularly as he made it without hesitation and despite her coolness. Yet it was only _after_ this act of selflessness that she admitted to him that she didn't want him to be the baseball commissioner; and only then did she acknowledge to him that she needed him in Washington with her. She had asked him to stay and he, again without hesitation, had stayed.

But where did they go from here? What _did_ she want from him? What could he rightfully demand and expect of her? These were the questions that needed answers. The ball was firmly in her court. Her decision would determine his course of action. The one thing Rod had made abundantly clear tonight was that he would not allow her to avoid the issue. However, she just couldn't wrap her mind around the problem any longer. She was too tired and Rod's hands felt too good on her tense muscles.

**2. The Choice**

The next thing Mac knew it was six a.m. and her alarm was ringing. She turned it off and rolled over. Rod's spot on their bed was empty. She panicked momentarily then relaxed as she realized it was Wednesday. He would be playing basketball. She was glad she wasn't playing against him this morning. She was sure he had a lot of pent up energy. She also knew that he had sharp elbows and that he wasn't afraid to throw one–if he felt it was warranted. For some reason, this thought made her chuckle (probably because last night she, symbolically, had been on the receiving end of one of those elbows). Later, she'd have to ask him about this morning's game in order to discover if anyone had ended up with a blackened eye.

Mac quickly dressed, pulled her hair back, and secured a baseball cap on her head. It was her morning to row. For both of them sport was an outlet. But while Rod generally preferred team sports, she enjoyed individual pursuits such as running or rowing.

Within a short period of time, she was settled in her single skull on the Potomac. The Secret Service hated this particular routine. But she had remained firm. Once she achieved a comfortable rhythm, Mac turned her thoughts back to the previous night. Only this morning her perspective had changed. She realized that Rod's demand was really less of an ultimatum and more of a plea. A plea _she_ had forced him to voice.

He was right. She _had_ asked him not to take the commissioner's job. When she made that request it was with the mutual understanding that he would take a more active role in her presidency. She had told him that they would discuss what his new title should be.

Yet she had forced him–by her silence and stubborn resistence–to beg for the recognition and acknowledgment he had time and again earned. She knew he had been both hurt and confused by her reluctance to publicly include him in her presidency (particularly as they had worked so closely together for so many years.) He was a proud man–and she wouldn't want him any other way! And it had cost him to beg her for recognition. He deserved better–especially from her.

Mackenzie wasn't sure why she had such a difficult time swallowing _her_ pride and admitting–even to him–what she felt and what she needed. She stopped herself. She knew why she buried her feelings. It was because she had always believed that showing emotion was a sign of weakness and of vulnerability–two things that she could not tolerate from herself.

She just didn't know why she still–after almost 20 years of marriage–continued to apply that fallacy to Rod. He was the one person with whom she was emotionally safe. His love and acceptance of her was–and had been almost from the start–unconditional. Hadn't he again proved that to her last night when she had met his heartfelt plea with further detached resistence? He hadn't remained angry at her. Instead he yet again reached out to her and put her needs ahead of his own.

She_ had_ always looked to him–and counted on his presence. That had not changed even though she was now the President and he no longer was her chief of staff. The truth was that she needed him, needed his advice. He was smart, and a skilled political strategist. Like herself, he was a lawyer trained to see different sides of every issue. He was the one person who had no personal agenda and whose loyalty to her was absolute. She also knew that he would always give her his honest opinion and that he wouldn't give in to the temptation to tell her only what she wanted to hear. If he weren't her husband he would have been an integral party to her Administration from day one.

If she wanted and needed his advice–his presence–wasn't it only fair to him that she should then openly, and officially, acknowledge and recognize him for what he was: a valued and trusted advisor? Rod was right that they worked best–both professionally and personally–when they worked together.

One reason for her reticence in offering him an official position was that she wanted Jim to remain as her chief of staff. But Rod had removed that obstacle last night when he made it clear to her that he wasn't asking for his old job back. So what of the likely consequences if Rod joined her staff?

Did she really care what people would think about her if she hired her husband? It would be hypocritical, she realized, to suddenly care what people thought about this when she hadn't let those same opinions deter her from assuming the presidency in the first place. When Bridges became incapacitated and then died, she had–as requested–almost resigned. Ultimately, however, with an assist from Rod (and inadvertently from Nathan), she realized that her choice had to be about doing the right thing. Nathan Templeton as President of the United States was most definitely _not_ the right thing! Now, the right thing for her, for her marriage, and she realized, for her presidency was to make Rod an official member of her Administration.

Similarly, was the fact that this had never been successfully done before reason enough to keep her from doing what she knew, in her heart, was right for both of them? If this was the case, then–ironically–she would not be facing this decision because she never would have been in a position to assume the presidency.

Women who behave like women have traditionally behaved, simply do not make history. And political Independents do not become President. Rod had always encouraged her pursuit of the non-traditional path. And with his love and support, she had, in fact, made history–or rather they had made it together (although he currently wasn't terribly comfortable with the more domestic aspects of _his_ foray into history.) Mac knew that the thought of _his_ painting hanging next to that of Nancy Reagan and Jacqueline Kennedy in the Vermeil Room caused Rod considerable distress! And despite his discomfit, she found that thought infinitely amusing.

However, now they could–together–make history yet again. She wasn't worried about the inevitable comparisons to the Clinton's as she knew that this was an entirely different situation. Rod wouldn't be calling press conferences or testifying before congressional committees. They simply would be doing what they had always done: working side by side while trying to do the right thing for themselves, for their family, and for the country. She likely would be president for only two years (although she secretly hoped it would be ten.) But she had been married to Rod for almost twenty years, and God-willing they would be together for at least another forty. So if other people had a hard time accepting this choice then to hell with them!

Suddenly Mackenzie felt better than she had in weeks. Anxious to complete her workout and get back to the Residence, she increased her stroke speed. She hoped that not too many of Rod's basketball mates had ended up bloodied or bruised this morning. If they had, the buck–as Harry Truman was fond of saying–stopped with her. No matter, she thought. She knew her husband's day was about to get a lot better. And this made her smile.


	2. Rod's Choice: State of the Unions

**Author's Note:** This chapter fills in gaps in _State of the Unions_. It begins with the DNC chairman's televised apology and then goes beyond Mac's delivery of her televised State of the Union Address from the Oval Office. As I pondered this episode while sitting on a plane, I decided this episode was missing a couple of important conversations—and a real (slightly over the top) make-up scene.

**2. ROD'S CHOICE**

_**A. Perspective**_

"_An employee of the DNC without my knowledge is alleged to have encouraged a young intern to place an illegal substance in a drink of First Gentleman Rod Calloway. We are cooperating fully with the proper authorities. As Chairman, I apologize for the rogue actions of these individuals. And I wish to convey my most sincere regrets to the First Gentleman, the President and their family."_

As the DNC chairman finished his weak televised apology, Rod–after three days of living in Hell–had just about reached his limit. He threw the pieces of candy that were in his hand down into the candy dish and left the Oval Office reception area. When he got to his office, he shut the door, sat down at his desk and momentarily buried his face in his hands. Perspective. He needed perspective. But he knew he wouldn't find it here. He needed some air... needed to clear his head.

He took off his suit jacket and his tie and rolled-up his shirt sleeves. He called Nora and Vince to tell them where he was going on the off-chance that Mac or one of the kids needed him. Then he grabbed the basketball from the closet and left the West Wing. When he got outside he asked the Secret Service to keep their distance and then he walked to the basketball court only pausing a moment to peak into the Oval where Mac was working on her State of the Union Address.

One of the first thing's he'd done after Mac had become President was to fix-up the outdoor basketball court which had fallen into disrepair. He shot free-throws for a few minutes. But very quickly gave up. Usually sports or other physical activity was a balm to his troubles. Not today. Today's difficulties were too big for that. So he took a seat on the bench and tried to come to grips with the events of the past three days.

First, he had to deal with his anger: over his stupidity, over Mac's reactions and overreactions, and over the politics of hatred and destruction that too frequently controlled this town. Rod knew that anger–like hate–was a personal choice. He had to let go or it would destroy him.

He also had to get past the hurt he felt from Mac's lack of trust and her spite. Their conversation last night after she had learned he really had been set up had partially healed both of their wounds. But there were deeper ones that would require closer attention. This, Rod realized, was what really ate at him.

He couldn't get past yesterday's argument with Mackenzie in the Oval Office. A portion of that conversation just kept playing relentlessly in his stream of consciousness. And he was powerless to stop it:

"_That's right. You're my husband. That's the problem. It's always been the problem... This cannot continue to be seen as an extension of our marriage..."_

Is this really, he wondered, what his wife thought of him. That he was a problem... and always had been. Did she really have so little faith in him, in his abilities, and what they had achieved together?

She didn't fully trust him–he'd always recognized that on some level. But Mac really didn't trust anybody–except for maybe Kate... no, he realized, not even Kate. But if she didn't believe in him... then what was he doing here? Except that he loved her. He had, almost from the moment they met, loved her. That was the one thing of which he was certain. He had tried diligently over the years to base every decision in his life with that love–with her–firmly in his sight. But what about now? Where did he go from here? And if Mac didn't trust him and didn't need him... then what was the point of his making any decision. Mackenzie would have made the decision for him.

Rod leaned forwards and put his elbows on his knees before rubbing his temples with his hands. He was stuck. And he had no idea what to do next.

Sometime later, Kate found him still sitting like this and her heart broke. She'd deliberately gone looking for him. Kate loved her daughter and she knew from personal experience what a challenge loving Mackenzie could at times be. Kate also loved her son-in-law dearly. She could not have asked for a better husband for Mac and father for her grandchildren. He had willingly sacrificed so much personal ambition for her daughter. And she could see just how much he was hurting. When her daughter felt really afraid, ganged up on or backed into a corner, she often would scratch and claw her way out of the situation in an act of self-preservation that was usually directed towards those who loved her the most. Kate had the scars to prove it... and so did Rod.

Rod heard her approach and looked up. Standing to greet her he asked, "Hey, is there a problem?"

"Sit down," she said. "I just thought you could use a cookie."

Rod smiled. He knew what "cookie" meant in Kate's vernacular. "What would we do without you, Kate?"

"The real question is what would the Allen-Calloway women—and Horace—do without you?" With genuine concern she asked him, "Are you okay?"

Rod looked at her for a moment. He did not want to put her in the awkward position of having potentially divided loyalties. But he needed some perspective and he just couldn't seem to locate it on his own. "Kate... if she doesn't trust me and she doesn't need me..."

"Stop, right there," Kate interrupted. She put her hand on his knee and turned to face him even more directly. "You're wrong. Mac does trust you. She just has an unorthodox way of showing it sometimes. But I'm fairly certain that you knew that already. And as for her need for you... that, my dear boy, has never been at issue."

Kate paused to let her words sink in. "Rod, I had a conversation with her two nights ago and I asked her how the two of you were doing. She said 'she didn't know.' But then she told me something very interesting—something I had never heard from her before. She told me that what she remembered most about my relationship with Michael were the kisses and that he was 'always coming in for a hug', and 'always holding my hand.'"

Kate stood and faced him while he remained seated. She placed her hands on his shoulders. Once she was sure she had his full-attention, she told him gently. "I love you. My daughter loves you. Most important she needs you. She may not always adequately convey that need but it doesn't make it any less real–any less true...

"Rod, she's got hundreds of advisors and millions of critics. She only has one husband: _you_.

"And _you_ are what she really needs: your love, your devotion, your patience... your hugs and your kisses... you always reaching out to hold her hand."

Kate kissed him on the cheek and left him to his thoughts.

Rod sat in stunned silence for a moment. Could the answer to everything really be that simple? But in his heart, he knew it was so.

_**B. Execution**_

Rod returned to his office in the West Wing to write a letter and to again review tonight's speech. These would be two of his last official acts as Director of Strategic Planning for the Allen Administration.

When he finished making a few notes in the margins, he went to Jim's office. As the only thing on the President's agenda was tonight's speech, Rod knew that Jim was likely doing what he had just done. They all wanted this speech to be perfect–for her.

The two talked about the language and content of the speech for a few minutes. Then they discussed the DNC's folly and Templeton's latest stunt and ways in which they could combat each of those without stooping to that level. Both they and the President hated for her to stand before a joint session of Congress tonight in silent recognition that politics as usual–the politics of self-destruction–was acceptable.

Jim pulled a copy of the United States Constitution from his shelf. Together they read Article II, Section 3: "He shall from time to time give to the Congress Information of the State of the Union, and recommend to their Consideration such Measures as he shall judge necessary and expedient..."

In the plain language of the document, Rod and Jim found a response to Templeton and the DNC. The President would make a Report to the Congress but she would not do it hat in hand. She would not give them that satisfaction or respect they had not earned. She would throw an elbow to the soft underbelly of the "inside the beltway" political establishment. An elbow that said, "Don't mess with me. You will lose. I am smarter than you. And I am right."

Mac would fulfill her constitutional obligation. But she would take her message directly to the American people and use their collective will to keep their elected representatives accountable. Finally, solution in hand, the two men most important to President Mackenzie Allen, relaxed.

Rod told Jim of his decision and handed him a letter of resignation that was more symbolic than anything else. Jim agreed to remain silent until he could tell Mackenzie.

A few months ago, when Rod assumed his official position, it would have been unthinkable to leave his wife's political success–her legacy–in the hands of this man who was so closely tied to Teddy Bridges. Jim, however, had earned his respect and had proven his loyalty. Rod knew that he would also have her back. And that had always been his first priority: To ensure that there was always present someone Mac could rely on to protect her from those who sought to take her down.

The two of them had previously reached a mutual understanding. Now they would take it a step further. There would be no more turf wars. No battles over who would reign supreme in having the ear of the President. Each of them would take control of a different sphere: Rod, personally as Mackenzie's husband; and Jim, professionally, as President Mac Allen's Chief of Staff.

Together the two men left the office. Jim went to recommend to the President a new kind of State of the Union Address; and Rod to talk with Nora about his office change.

Later Rod would propose to Mackenzie a new state of _their_ union. As he thought of this next conversation with her, he smiled for the first time in three days. He knew his wife's week was about to get a lot better... and that meant everything to him. But first, he had some personal plans to finalize—plans he would execute later that evening when all was quiet in both the West Wing and the Residence.

_**C. East meets West**_

Twelve minutes before Mac's first State of the Union Address, Rod stood in the doorway of her personal study that was adjacent to the Oval Office. Mac was sitting on the couch apparently reviewing the contents of her speech. _"Hey, you should let that rest. It's a good speech."_

"_What's a five letter word for highway?"_

"_I should have known."_

"_It's better than biting my nails."_

"_You're going to be great." _Rod joined his wife on the couch. _"So… I am moving my things out of the West Wing and back into the First Gentleman's office."_

"_Rod, we can talk about it. You don't have to…"_

"_Mac."_ Rod placed his hand on her knee. _"Mac, you're the first female president… And you need to stand taller and be stronger than any man who has come before you. And with me by your side you can't do that.. It's not fair. It's not right. But it's the truth…. It will be better that way… for us, too."_

Mac acknowledged his decision with a nod.

"_And you only have eight minutes left… and that's your husband talking."_

_**D. State of their Union**_

As the cameras went cold, Mac took in her surroundings. She had just finished her first State of the Union Address. She was pleased with the contents of the speech and had felt good about its delivery. But she was more pleased to have her entire family—and especially her husband—there to support her. With her eyes, she first acknowledged Rod. Then she did the same with her kids and her mom. After a moment, however, she was engulfed by others in the room.

Much later, she found herself alone at her desk. She had no idea when her family had left for home. It had been a terrible week but a great day. She felt tired but exhilarated. She also felt at peace.

"Mrs. Calloway?"

Mac looked up in puzzlement as Vince came into the Oval. She hadn't been called by that name for many years. Nonetheless, she acknowledged his salutation. "Yes?"

"You have an appointment at eleven o'clock."

Mac looked at the clock on her desk. "Vince, who in their right mind schedules an appointment for this hour."

"Mr. Calloway. He's waiting for you in the Residence… he asked that you not be late."

Mac looked at the clock again. It read 10:57 p.m. As she had sorely tried her husband's good nature the past few days, Mackenzie decided she'd better hurry…. She made it just in time.

When she entered their bedroom, Rod was waiting for her in his pajama bottoms. Hundreds of mostly yellow and red roses filled the dimly lit room.

Mackenzie closed—and locked—the bedroom door behind her. And walking towards him said sedately, "I heard we have an appointment, Mr. Calloway."

"You heard right." Rod quickly closed the gap remaining between them and wrapped his arms tightly around her. She still fit—perfectly. "We have a lifetime of appointments ahead of us, wife. Appointments for hugging, and kissing… and for lots of hand-holding." He paused a moment before adding mischievously, "And when we're lucky, Mrs. Calloway, appointments for lots of other pleasurable activities…."

That night they started with the hugging and the kissing. Then they moved on to the other things. Finally, much later when they lay in bed safe in each other's arms, they concentrated on the hand-holding.

Mac again surveyed the room before turning to look at her husband. "How, Mr. Calloway, were you able to find so many roses?"

He met her question with a smile that made her melt. "You forget… I'm the First Gentleman of the United States. I have my own greenhouse and full-time florists… and you, President Allen, have your own rose garden."


	3. Crossroads: The Elephant in the Room

**Author's Note:** This chapter is a fill-in for _The Elephant in the Room_. We know that this episode takes place sometime during the week preceding Memorial Day weekend. For my purposes, Mac has surgery on Wednesday and returns home on Friday, making her conversation with Templeton that evening. For the sake of brevity, this chapter begins with Dr. Brock telling Rod that Mackenzie is out of surgery. In spite of that, this is the longest single chapter I've written but... oh well.

One of my major frustrations with the show has always been the lack of a true dialogue between Rod and Mackenzie concerning the impact of the Presidency on them as individuals, on their relationship, and on their family; and how they ultimately will make it all work. These conversations, in my opinion, are critical to any drama concerning a First Family. But we have not seen them explored much on the show; and the few times they have been addressed, Rod and Mac have never been allowed to really finish the conversation. This is my attempt for our First Couple to finally have and finish those conversations using Mac's illness and surgery as a catalyst. Except for Rod's telephone conversation with Kate, All italicized dialogue is taken directly from the show.

**3. CROSSROADS**

"_Rod..."_

"_Oh... hey. So how is she?"_

"_She's fine. She's fine. The damage was more than expected but they did a great job, expect a hundred percent recovery."_

"_So is she awake?"_

"_No... she should sleep most of the night."_

"_Yeah... so these complications, were they?"_

"_It got dicey for awhile but... she's tough."_

"_Yeah."_

"_I guess you don't get to be President without being made of steel... right?"_

"_Yeah... thanks._" As Dr. Brock turned away, Rod took a deep breath of relief, and said, _"Okay."_ He turned around to talk with the twins, Kelly and Vince.

"Is everything okay, Dad?"

Rod put his arm around his oldest daughter. "Mom's fine, Becca." Then addressing all four of them, he said, "Mac's out of surgery. Everything went well. But she'll probably sleep all night. Kelly, call Jim and let him know about the President's condition and then consult with Dr. Brock about briefing the press."

"Yes, sir," Kelly responded, already dialing the White House number.

"Vince, you and the twins get some dinner and get something for Kelly, too. Then I want all of you to go to the hotel and get some sleep."

"Dad, what are you going to do?" asked Horace.

"I'm going to call grandma and Amy and then sit by Mom for awhile."

"We're not leaving." Becca was empathetic.

"I'm staying, too." Vince and Horace both said at the same time.

Rod sighed. He was too tired to argue; and he recognized how important it was for the twins to feel like they were being treated like adults. "Okay. But get something to eat and then try and get some sleep. Vince, talk to the Service and see if they can't find a couple of rooms for you guys to crash in."

"Yes, sir."

"When can we see Mom?"

"Likely tomorrow morning Becca, when she wakes up. So make sure you get some sleep tonight. Okay?"

"Okay. Kiss her for me?"

"Will do."

After they left, Rod sat down and called home.

"_Hello."_

"Kate..."

"_How is she, Rod?"_

"She's going to be okay. She's out of surgery and still asleep. They expect she'll be out all night."

"_Why did it take so long?"_

"Well, her appendix had burst. Apparently it was touch and go for awhile. I never should have let her on that plane, Kate."

"_You're not at fault. We both know that there was nothing either of us could have done to stop her. But she can't go on like this, working twenty hours a day."_

"I know."

"_You're going to have to talk with her, Rod. She's killing herself."_

"You're right... But it's not going to be easy. Listen, I've got to go. I want to be there in case she needs anything. Kiss Amy for me, assure her everything's okay."

"_I will. But try and get some sleep yourself."_

"Goodnight, Kate."

After he hung up, Rod went directly to Mac's room. Dr. Brock was still there. "Did Kelly find you?"

"Yeah, I gave her a statement and referred her to the surgeon. I also told her I'd make myself available for questions in the morning."

"Thanks. How is she?"

"She looks much better. But she really will sleep most of the night." Dr. Brock turned his attention from his patient to her husband. "Rod, it was a really close call. If we'd arrived any later... well, the outcome likely would have been very different. Her surgeon did a great job. But we were also very lucky."

Rod nodded, not wanting to really process what the doctor had just told him. "Can I go sit with her?"

"Of course. I'm going to get something to eat but they'll page me if anything comes up–but it won't. Her vitals are good, her color's returning... she's going to be fine."

Rod nodded and went to his wife. He studied her close. She did look better and she didn't appear to be in any pain. Suddenly the emotions of the day caught up to him and he was hit with the realization of just how very close he came to losing her. Fighting back tears, he bent down and gently kissed her on the forehead before pulling up a chair next to her bed. He leaned forward and put his face in his hands. Silently he said a prayer of thanks.

Breathing deeply he leaned back and watched his wife sleep. His thoughts kept returning not only to Dr. Brock's words but also to his conversation with Kate. She was right, Mac couldn't continue with the pace in which she was working... nobody could. There were also other issues they needed to talk about, too. While things had settled down between them since he'd moved back into the East Wing, there was still a distance between them that he hated and that he knew would eventually cause great damage to their relationship. Also at stake, were issues affecting the kids. The problem, he realized, was there never seemed to be any time to talk or work on their relationships. They were never alone long enough. He knew what Mac's initial reaction would be when he raised the subject. But the time had come. He couldn't put off these conversations any longer–not with her health and their family in jeopardy.

XXXXXXXXXXXX

Except for checking on the twins, Rod stayed with her most of the night. A couple of times, she stirred but she never really awakened. In the morning, he again went to check with the kids, and to give Kelly, Vince and Jim an update, leaving word with Dr. Brock to get him immediately if Mac awakened. Jim also gave him an update about what really had been going on in Mac's absence.

He had been sitting with the others, when Dr. Brock told him Mac was awake. He hurried back to her bedside and perched on the arm of the chair he had spent the night in. Resting his left arm on her collarbone, he smiled tenderly. _"Hey... you had us going for awhile there."_ He wouldn't tell her just how close a call they'd had... not until later.

Mac smiled weakly but then looked towards the window. _"This is not the same day, is it?"_

Rod shook his head. _"No."_

"_Was I out all night?"_

"_Pretty much."_ He took a deep breath. _"Don't you do that ever again."_

"_I don't think I can."_ Mac smirked and stuck out her chin. _"I'm pretty sure I only have one appendix."_

"_Smart ass,"_ Rod told her lovingly as he brushed his fingers along her very stubborn chin.

"_So... anything bad happen?"_

He didn't answer immediately as he pondered the wisest course to take. Eventually, however, he decided to just tell her the truth. "Not bad, exactly. But a couple of issues did come up. Are you sure you're up to talking about this now?"

"We have to, Rod. I'll be fine." Mac moved to sit up.

Rod restrained her. "Hang on a minute. Let me help you." He propped up her pillows and adjusted the bed into more of a vertical position. "Is that comfortable? What about some pain reliever?"

"I'm fine. Thank you. Please talk to me."

"Okay, Madame President." He sat back down. "There was a Liberation of Palestine Organization suicide bombing at a bus stop ten miles outside of Tel Aviv. Jim advised Templeton to call the Israeli's and urge restraint but he refused claiming 'Israel has the right to defend itself.'"

Mac took a deep breath, feeling a rising frustration over yesterday's events. "What else?"

"Templeton also had the House pass a resolution for binding arbitration over the airline strike. And the National Mediation Board ruled in favor of the airlines and ordered the pilots back to work. Of course, Templeton is now claiming a total victory for himself."

"How long is this new deal in effect?"

"Sixty days."

"Dammit Rod. The man just undid months of hard work and good will. I need to speak with Jim and immediately resume office."

"Slow down, Mackenzie. Jim's minding the store. He'll call if anything comes up. I understand you need to get back to doing your job, but you just had surgery. I don't want you doing anything without doctor approval."

"Then get Brock in here–immediately. And help me get dressed. I'm not seeing anybody like this... and there are people I need to see. I need to be briefed because I _am_ resuming Office."

All Rod could do was smile knowingly and do what she asked.

A relatively short-time later, Mac, dressed in her own pajamas and robe with a stack of papers in front of her and reading glasses on, was on the phone with Jim, having been briefed and having resumed her Office.

Rod stood just outside talking with Dr. Brock, who had examined Mackenzie and given her the green light to work from bed–within limits. Rod knew that his wife would likely begin testing those limits very shortly. While she looked better and stronger, he knew that she was operating on pure adrenaline, stubbornness, and anger over Templeton. "Kyle, I'm worried about her, worried she's doing too much, too fast."

"You should be concerned. She had major surgery yesterday with a lot of internal damage and infection."

"What does she need?"

"_Bed rest... it's that simple."_

Rod nodded and raised a sardonic eyebrow._ "Try telling her that..."_

"Good luck... I'm here to back you up," Dr. Brock told him as both men re-entered the room.

"_These workers will almost certainly strike at the end of the sixty-day period,"_ the President was saying_, "and guess what, it's their right to do so... Not separately, together. In person, in the Roosevelt Room, first thing Monday. I don't care that it's the holiday... Thanks, Jim."_

She hung up the phone and spoke to Dr. Brock. _"When's the soonest I can leave?"_

"_You're starting to sound like a typical patient."_

"_I'm feeling much better and I happen to travel with my own Doc 24/7."_

"_Nice try. The earliest–it's not my ideal choice, but maybe with a health care crew aboard, first thing in the morning."_

Mac took off her glasses and nodded. _"Good. The country needs to know I'm back."_ Then she turned her attention away from her doctor and husband in favor of the television screen where an earlier press conference of then Acting President Nathan Templeton was being aired.

"_Morning,"_ Templeton exclaimed as he walked behind the podium in the White House press room. _"Effective immediately, the strike that has frozen the nation's travel industry, and threatened our economy, has stood to ruin this holiday weekend of the American people, has ended..."_

Watching his wife, Rod saw that she was resolute. However, he could tell she was really on the verge of tears: seeing her rival claim victory, having worked so hard on this issue, and knowing that, in fact, she was now back to square one. _"The good news is,"_ he told her, _"it's over. The bad news is that we just have to live with the consequences."_

XXXXXXXXXXXX

The following evening Rod leaned against a column on the West colonnade while Mac spoke with Templeton. They'd arrived home earlier in the day. While he and Brock, with an assist from Kate, had been able to get her to rest most of the afternoon, neither could derail her from this meeting with Templeton. So he'd insisted on not only accompanying her downstairs but also that she use the wheelchair until they reached the Oval Office door. Rod understood why she needed to do this, he just wasn't crazy about the timing of it. Fortunately, he'd been able to talk with Jim, Kate and the kids at length this afternoon while she slept. And all of them had been in agreement with the weekend plans he'd silently made on the trip home. Beginning to feel the effects from worry and a lack of sleep, he took a deep breath. He wondered what was going on in there and decided that he'd hate to be in Templeton's shoes tonight.

"_Madame President,"_ Nathan exclaimed entering the Oval. He approached the President, who was working at her desk.

"_Mr. Speaker, good of you to come."_

"_You look great."_ He stopped a few feet in front of her desk. _"Are you sure it's okay for you to be up and running?"_

The President took off her glasses, gave him an almost wicked smile, and leaned back in her chair, never losing eye contact with him. _"Did you really think you had the right to come in here and make policy changes?"_

Perching himself on the arm of one of the chairs, he responded, _"Not only the right, but the obligation. I saw what I thought... what I think, is the perfect solution to the desperate problem this nation was facing and I enacted it."_

The President leaned forward and sat up straight. _"My mediation team was on the verge of getting a concession from the workers that would have resulted in a contract that both labor and management could have signed. That's not going to happen now... because all of the good will that was cultivated in getting there is gone."_

"_That's not true. You know it and I know it. You were no closer to an agreement yesterday than you were a month ago. This country could not wait any longer... so I acted in this country's behalf."_

The President threw down the pen she'd been holding and shook her head. _"You didn't do this for the country. You didn't do it on anyone's behalf. You used this Office. You used the American people... for your campaign, for your cronies, for your massive ego."_

"_That's nonsense. What I did, I did for this country. I liberated it. You couldn't make a decision from this Office well, I could and I did."_

Leaning on her desk for support, the President stood and faced him eye to eye. _"And if I ever needed another reason to prevent you from holding this Office, I have it now. And I'm going to do everything in my power–and I have the power–to see that never happens."_

"_You can't prevent me from holding this Office. That's for the People to decide."_

"_You have crossed a line with me and there is no going back. Now get the hell out of my office."_

"_Yes ma'am."_ Nathan smiled and left the room.

Mac again sat down at her desk.

The agent posted outside the Oval signaled Rod that Templeton had gone. Rod thanked him and entered through the outside door, finding Mackenzie still seated at her desk. Approaching her, he asked, "You okay?"

"Fine."

He leaned down and kissed her on the cheek. "I'm proud of you, Madame President... but now it's time you were back in bed."

XXXXXXXXXXXX

The following morning when Rod returned to their room after seeing Kate and the kids off, he was glad to find Mackenzie still asleep. He'd hoped the surgery, combined with the preceding weeks of sleep deprivation and last night's confrontation with Templeton, would at least temporarily reset his wife's natural clock, which seemed to believe it was a crime to remain in bed later than six a.m.

He sat down on the bench at the foot of their bed and thought about the conversations he needed to have with Mac the next couple of days. While he looked forward to the time alone with her, he dreaded having these discussions with her. He knew how she would initially respond, and while he could take it, he didn't relish the experience. But it had to be done. He would have preferred to wait but he knew that this would be his only opportunity. Come Monday, she would stubbornly demand that things go back to business as usual. His only opportunity to change that routine would be this weekend.

Eventually he was roused from his thoughts by his wife's stirring. He turned around just as she was sitting up. He could tell by the way that she'd winced that she had momentarily forgotten about the events of the past three days. He quickly went to her. "Here, let me help you." He propped up the pillows behind her and gently helped her get settled against them before sitting next to her.

"Thanks." Mac looked at the clock and was surprised by the lateness of the morning hour. "How did I sleep so long?" she asked almost rhetorically.

"Doctor's orders." Rod reached out and touched her face.

"Okay... but I've got to get up and see to the kids, the radio address, the national security briefing, and the airline situation, the bombing..."

Rod placed a finger to her lips. "Mac, stop. The only thing you are going to see to at the moment is breakfast... in bed. You heard Dr. Brock, the only way you're going to recover fully is to rest. Otherwise, you're just going to end up back in the hospital and you know what that means."

Mac, as expected, glared at him. But he really didn't care. "Okay, let's take things one at a time. One, the kids are not here. They and your mother are on their way to Connecticut for the weekend."

"What? When? I don't remember talking about that." She was getting agitated.

"You're right. We didn't talk about it. I made the decision. You need rest and the likelihood of that happening with everybody here was slim to none. They'll be back Monday afternoon."

"Rod, you can't just..."

"It's already done," he told her gently.

She sighed, knowing he was right about the rest. "But Amy?"

"Is fine." Rod's voice was full of assurance. "I had a long talk with her–with all of them... and they're fine. So's your mother. You're the one we're worried about. Mackenzie, you scared us. I mean... really scared us." He paused. "Do you know how close we came to losing you?"

Hearing the emotion in his voice and seeing the anguish in his face, her demeanor softened. "Rod, I'm fine... really."

"I know. But you've got to give your body a chance to heal, Mac. Otherwise..."

"You're right. But the radio address, the security briefing... There are things I have to do, things my Office requires."

"I understand. Which is why you'll be giving the radio address from the Treaty Room–in your wheelchair, dressed in very casual clothes. Afterwards, you'll get the intelligence briefing. But that's it. That's all the work you will do until Monday, other than working on your Memorial Day speech from bed, because I know I'm not going to be able to talk you out of going to Arlington. But I will put a stop to it if you don't do what you're told the next couple of days. And that means total rest with no work visitors or anything else, except Jim and only if absolutely necessary."

"Rod," she told him emphatically, her anger again rising, "you can't dictate to me how and when I do my job."

"This weekend I can–and I will." Their eyes locked. This was one time he had no intention of giving in. "You may be the leader of the free world, Mac, but you are also my wife and the mother of my children." He took one of her hands and reminded her, "I love you and I need you. And so do the kids... and I will not let you jeopardize your health and their future because of stubborn pride."

They continued to look at one another. Eventually, Mackenzie realized just what he was saying and why. "Okay, Mr. Calloway. I give in..."

"Good... because I'm not done yet."

She raised an eyebrow. "You're not?"

"No, ma'am. I would have preferred to have this discussion some other time. But you know what... there is no other time because we're never alone long enough to have it. Now fate has intervened... and we're going to talk."

Mac wasn't sure what was coming next but she didn't like the sound of it. And she hated being put in this position. "Great timing, Rod. Could you possibly pick a more pleasant time for this than when I'm in pain and just out of the hospital." Her voice brimmed with sarcasm.

"Mackenzie, knock it off."

She again gave him a very cold, hard look.

"If you can spend hours on the telephone talking to everyone in your Administration on the day after surgery, and if you can talk with Nathan Templeton in the Oval Office on the night you're released from the hospital, then you can certainly now spend a few minutes talking with your husband–the man who loves you, the man who has always done everything in his power to make you happy." He returned her hard look. "And as for timing... you tell me when would be a good time? Next week? Next year? Mac, we haven't really talked in months."

They stared at each other for a short minute. However, today, she backed down first. He was usually so placid, so agreeable. "Okay... what do you want to talk about?"

"Us... the kids... your schedule. We can't continue the way we have, Mac. We've got to make some changes, re-evaluate our priorities. You've got to..."

"I'm the President of the United States," Mac interrupted. "Please excuse me if I don't have time to sit around and hold your hand or cook your meals."

Rod had anticipated her reaction, but it didn't make it any easier on him. Trying to keep a firm grip on his emotions and his temper, he quietly told her, "That was below the belt, Mac. And really not fair." He stood up and turned away.

"Where are you going? I thought you wanted to talk, that it was so important." The anger and sarcasm in her voice was still readily apparent.

He reached for a folder on the dresser before answering. "I'm going to get your breakfast." He handed her the folder. "Here's the radio address. I'll be back in a few minutes. And unless you're going to the bathroom, I expect you to remain in bed." He didn't wait for a response but walked towards the door.

However, before he left the room he turned and faced her. "You know, Mac... I wasn't criticizing or attacking you. I love you and I'm very proud of you. But the truth is that our relationship needs some work, our family relationships need some attention. And you can't continue with the pace you've been going. You're strong, but not that strong... nobody is. You're killing yourself." With a shake of his head he finished, "I can't help you–help us, unless you're willing to meet me half way... or at least are willing to discuss the situation."

Mac wanted to throw the folder at his departing back but couldn't summon the energy. This felt like just one more thing on a plate where things were already falling off because it was so full. Why, she wondered, couldn't anything be simple anymore? She looked at the clock. She had forty-five minutes until she had to give the damn radio address. Well, she thought, it had to come first. But before she turned her attention to the speech, she mentally replayed his last words and belatedly realized what his intention had been. He was right. They did have things to discuss.

She was still reviewing the speech, silently repeating the words in her mind, when Rod returned with her breakfast. She didn't know what to say to him. She'd never been very good at making the first attempt at reconciliation.

"Here you go."

She moved the folder and he placed the tray on her lap. She hadn't had much to eat the past several days and was almost surprised to discover that the food looked good. "Thank you."

He nodded and again moved towards the door.

"Rod..."

He turned around and looked at her.

"I..."

"Now's not the time, President Allen. I'm sorry I brought it up when I did. You've got things to do. Eat your breakfast."

He had a smile on his face, but she could hear the distance in his voice. "Rod, I know..."

"Not now, Mac," he interrupted, his voice firm but gentle. Then seeing the concern in her face, he again joined her on the bed. "Honey, it's okay really. Bad timing on my part. Look at the time."

She looked at the clock and realized she had twenty-five minutes before air time.

"We've got to get you ready to give the radio address and for the briefing. We'll talk later, I promise. I'm going to quickly check that everything's set up for you in the Treaty Room and then I'll come help you dress. Okay?"

"Thank you."

He smiled and then kissed her cheek before again leaving the room.

XXXXXXXXXXXX

A little over an hour later, Rod entered the Treaty Room. Jim and the NIO had just finished briefing her. He took one look at his wife and saw that she was worn out. "Hey... everything quiet?"

Mac raised her head. "Yeah... fortunately. Truthfully, I'm not sure I could cope with a crisis today."

"Well, we'll just have to pray that it stays quiet." Rod moved behind her wheelchair. "Let's get you back in bed."

Rod got Mackenzie settled back in bed. She didn't voice a single objection. She must really be worn out, he thought. He sat down next to her and stroked her cheek. "You did great in there. But you're beat. What can I get you?"

"Cookies and a glass of milk?"

"Real cookies... or do you want me to call your Mother?"

Mac tried to laugh but it hurt too much. "Real cookies... but only if you'll join me."

Rod nodded, but he could see the pain she was still in. "How about a little pain reliever to go along with the cookies?" Then, reading her thoughts, he added, "Just Tylenol."

"Thank you."

"I'll be right back."

When he returned, he joined her on the bed, the tray of cookies and milk between them. They ate in silence for a few minutes. Finally, moving closer to her, he spoke. "Mac, I'm sorry I upset you this morning..."

"Yeah... you definitely threw an elbow," she said, intending to tease him. But seeing the hurt in his expression, she reached out and lightly touched his arm. "But I know it was an elbow thrown out of love." She was relieved to see the hurt replaced by a smile. "Rod, I'm the one who should be apologizing. You were only looking out for me and our children... and I was very ungracious, and unappreciative. And I've been that way a lot lately. You're right. We do need to talk. I'm ready to listen now. I mean... really listen, if you want to do it now."

He took her hand and brought it to his lips. "Thank you. But I think that right now, you could use a nap. You're looking pretty tired to me–beautiful, but tired."

Mac looked at him and realized that he'd had even less sleep than she the past several days. "You look pretty exhausted yourself, Mr. Calloway. Why don't you join me."

"An afternoon napping with my wife. Doesn't get much better than that." He removed the tray from the bed and placed it on the floor.

"Oh... I can think of more pleasurable things to do with an afternoon in bed, husband..."

"Next time," he assured her. "And Mackenzie, there is going to be a next time."

She smiled. "Go change and then get back into this bed."

When Rod returned from the closet in a t-shirt and pajama bottoms, he found Mackenzie on his side of the bed.

"Mind if we switch sides for a couple of weeks? That way we can at least cuddle on my good side."

"Oh... I think I can live with that," he told her with a grin, as he crossed to her side of the bed. Gently he wrapped his arms around her, and they both fell asleep.

XXXXXXXXXXXX

Rod awakened first with Mackenzie still in his arms. He looked at his watch: 6 p.m. Wow, he thought, they had been exhausted. He was also starved and hoped that Mac would be, too. He slipped out of bed as quiet as he could, and grabbed his robe. He thought about changing into some regular clothes, but then decided "why bother."

He left the room and went to check on dinner. Earlier he'd informed Usher Waverly about what he'd like served for dinner and the set up. With Brock's approval, he'd planned a very intimate dinner for two in the family dining room provided, of course, that Mac was up to it. Otherwise, dinner in bed would have to suffice.

When he returned, Mac was awake and standing in the bathroom. He stood behind her and placed his hands on her shoulders, before talking to her through the mirror. "You should be in bed, you know."

She talked back at him using the same method. "You've had me in bed all day... and while I have enjoyed it, I'm also going crazy."

"Okay," he grinned, "how about joining me for dinner in the informal dining room?"

"Like a date, Mr. Calloway?" she asked suggestively.

"Exactly like that... Mrs. Calloway."

"Do I have to change?"

"Absolutely not. Tonight it's just us, in our robes and bare feet, Madame President."

"Sounds perfect." She turned towards him and put her arms around his neck. He bent his head until their foreheads touched. It'd been too long since they'd done this, she realized. It felt good. "Thank you for this... for today," she said after finally breaking contact with him. Looking into his loving eyes she continued, "You were right to send the kids to Connecticut with Mom. In fact, you're almost always right. I know I don't say that enough." She saw the momentary surprise in his eyes and recognized just how often lately she'd taken him for granted.

He kissed her softly. "We make a pretty formidable team, Mackenzie... when we work together."

"You're right again. Why don't we talk more about that at dinner."

"Deal." He helped her into her robe and led her by the hand into the dining room.

Mac wasn't terribly surprised to find the only light in the room coming from candles; and that the table was set very intimately for two. Rod had always been very thoughtful that way... and always a gentleman. She looked at him lovingly and touched his cheek as he helped her sit.

Within seconds it seemed the stewards had entered the room and very promptly, very quietly placed dinner before them. "Thank you," Rod told them as they left.

Mac looked at the plate in front of her and was instantly hungry. Chicken, rice and vegetables had never looked so good. Perhaps because for the first time in months, she thought, she truly felt happy and at peace.

Rod saw her look at her plate but couldn't see her expression. "Sorry it's nothing exotic," he apologized, "but Dr. Brock said bland food would be best for a couple of days... but I did get him to allow for some chocolate cake and ice cream for desert."

She smiled at her husband, realizing just how much thought he'd put into this weekend... and into her well-being. "Rod, it looks good. I mean, really good. Thank you."

"Eat your dinner."

They both began to eat voraciously, each of them feeling more rested and having a bigger appetite than usual. About halfway through the meal, each of them realized just how quickly they'd consumed their food. Looking up sheepishly, they were surprised to find that the other was in exactly the same predicament. And it dawned on them individually just how good it felt to truly be on the same page again–even over something as insignificant as dinner.

Mac spoke first. "Rod, I know you're right about us and the kids, about my schedule and my stubbornness. I just don't know what else to do. It's not like I'm intending to neglect us or our family... or even that I mean to work such long hours."

Rod pushed his plate out of the way and covered one of her hands with his one of his own. "I know." His voice was full of compassion and understanding. "But Mackenzie, the presidential oath of office was never meant to be the functional equivalent of a suicide pact. That's what it's become. Honey, I don't think you understand just how close you came to... The doctors told me that if we'd arrived at the hospital any later, we likely wouldn't now be having this conversation. Mac, I don't know if I could survive that... not to mention the kids... your mother." His voice was now so full of emotion that he had to sit back in order to regain some control.

After a moment he continued, "I'm angry at myself for going against my better judgment and letting you get on that plane. And frankly, I'm angry at you for stubbornly ignoring just how sick you really were. That can't happen again. Changes have to be made–for your personal health... and for the health of our marriage and your relationship with the kids."

"How, Rod? Because I really don't know what I can do different."

He didn't answer immediately, trying to gauge her intent. He was still a little gun shy from their last two conversations about her job–that morning and the day before her State of the Union address.

Mac sensed his hesitation. This time she took his hand, caressing his knuckles with her thumb. "Honey, I'm asking. I want to hear what you have to say. You wouldn't have brought this up without having thought long and hard about both the problem and the solution. Please... I need to hear it because things do have to change. We can't continue like we have."

He nodded. "Alright. But first... are you okay? Would you be more comfortable in bed or the family room?"

"I'm fine," she assured him. "But if it gets too much, I'll tell you."

"Okay." He took a deep breath. Though he felt a lot better about having this conversation with her, he recognized that it still wouldn't be easy. "Mackenzie, I've come to believe that the most difficult thing for any President is finding a workable balance between the presidential and the personal. But most of your predecessors and their families at least had a chance to prepare for this job. You–we–didn't have that luxury. We've had to do everything on the fly, learning only by experience. Moreover, unlike every other President you have the added burden of being a wife, a mother, and a political independent. But we've got to find that balance for you. Otherwise, I'm afraid for your health... and for us as a family."

She listened carefully to his words. "I never thought about it like that... but you're right, the balance is not there. What do you suggest?"

"Well, what do you want first, suggestions for the presidential or the personal? Although, they really are intertwined."

"Let's talk about the personal first."

"Okay. First, you need to totally relinquish to me control over the day to day affairs of the kids–their school work, their schedules, their friends, and their activities. Of course, we will continue to make all major decisions concerning the kids together and I will keep you informed–by written memo if necessary."

Mac smiled at the absurdity of his suggestion. Yet, she realized there was a measure of truth in his words.

"But I need your support. They can't play us against each other. So if they ask you for permission to do something, your response should be 'talk to your Dad.' Can you live with that?"

She nodded. "I think I have to... it's just the price of being President, I guess." Mac, in another flash of self-awareness realized how her response could have been interpreted. "Rod, thank you... thank you for being willing to make this sacrifice for me and the kids."

"It's no sacrifice, Mackenzie. I love you and I love our kids. I want all of you to be happy. That's all I've ever wanted."

"I know."

"But Mac, you need to set aside time every week to spend some one on one time with each of them. They need you, need to know that they are still a priority to you."

She nodded.

Now for the dicey part, he thought. "And the same goes for dinner. Make it a priority. We can be flexible as to the time... or even as to the location. But we need that time together as a family. Not once a month. But several times a week. You've got to eat anyway and thirty minutes is not going to kill your schedule. Make it as an important part of your day as you would meeting with senior staff or the Cabinet. Your children need to have some semblance of normal family life on a regular basis. Will you do that for me, for us?"

"Of course. I'll talk to Jim first thing in the morning."

Rod shook his head.

Mac corrected herself. "I mean... first thing Monday morning."

"That's better," he told her with a wink and a most cocky grin.

"What else?" This really wasn't as bad as she'd anticipated. It would just take a change of focus, greater discipline.

"Your schedule. Mackenzie, you cannot continue to work twenty hours a day, seven days a week. It's not physically possible. I want you back in the Residence by no later than 10 p.m. You need a full night's sleep. Catching only a cat nap at night has got to become the exception rather than the rule." He paused, wanting to give her a chance to react. Instead she motioned him to continue.

"I also want us at Camp David every other weekend–at least until the campaign kicks into high gear. If the kids want to have friends there for a night, fine. If you want to bring a little work, fine. But not all day, all weekend. You need time to unwind and recharge. And we need time together. I don't care how you do it. I'm not going to interfere with West Wing matters anymore. But talk to Jim. I think you'll find he's got some ideas." In truth, Rod and Jim had discussed her schedule and the changes they could make to it. "Honey, he's as worried about 'President Mac Allen' as I am about 'Mackenzie.'"

For the first time, Mac thought about the effect her illness must have had on her staff. Especially Jim, who had already suffered the loss of one President. She made a mental note to speak with him at the first available opportunity. Maybe even tomorrow, if her husband consented. "It won't be easy and I'm not sure how it will all work. But I know that I have to take better care of myself. I can't continue like I have."

She stopped speaking and then remembered something she hadn't mentioned to Rod. "I'm thinking about asking Jim to be my new VP. What do you think?"

"I think he'd make a great VP. And politically it would be a very smart move. But before you make a decision, think about where he can be of most help to you."

Mac nodded.

"That does remind me, however, of something else I've been meaning to discuss with you. Mac, I don't believe security clearances were ever meant to apply to the presidential spouse. You can't tell me that Eleanor Roosevelt, Nancy Reagan... Hillary Clinton, didn't know exactly what was happening in the world. But that's up to you. I'm not going to say anything else about it. I am available if you need me. I mean... I can read and summarize reports just as easily as you can. And it always helps to bounce ideas and concerns off someone–particularly someone whom you know only cares about your best interest and helping you make the best decision."

"Thank you," she said softly, telling him just how much she appreciated him with her eyes, her smile. "Well... I think we've covered everything except the most important thing: us. What about us?"

Rod pulled back his chair and stood beside her. Gently he bent down and kissed her lips. Then cupping her face with his hands, he told her, "Honey, if you–if we–make these changes and really follow through with them, then we'll be fine. Because we'll have time to talk... and time to touch."

"I love you."

"And I love you... But how are you? Ready to climb back in bed?"

"I'm fine... actually better than fine. How about a movie? ...And I thought I heard you mention something about chocolate cake and ice cream?"

Rod felt his heart turn over. His wife was back. "Chocolate cake and a movie, huh? Will the family room work?"

"Actually, I was thinking about the theater downstairs. I hear it's terrific... with very comfortable chairs. Do you think we'll offend anyone if we just go as is?"

"I don't really care, do you?"

"Not a bit."

Rod helped his wife stand and walked her into the West sitting area. "Let me call downstairs and get it set up," he told her as he helped her into a more comfortable chair.

"Don't forget the cake and ice cream."

"Yes, ma'am."

XXXXXXXXXXXX

Much later, Rod and Mackenzie lay in bed, with Rod's arms again wrapped around her healthy side. The day had gone so much better than he ever could have hoped... mostly though, because she was alive and they were together.

"Don't you find it ironic that the one night I'm not too tired for sex, it's not an option."

"Honey, please don't talk like that," he told her teasingly, "or I'm gonna need a cold shower."

She playfully elbowed him in the ribs. "What _did_ Dr. Brock say? How long do we have to wait?"

"I don't know. I didn't ask him."

"Rod..."

"Sorry Mac, but at the time I was mostly focused on the fact that you were still alive."

"Okay, but first thing tomorrow morning, we ask the question... Do you know what this reminds me of?"

"Those first six weeks post-partum?"

"Exactly. But as I recall, we had a difficult time making it to four weeks... Which also reminds me, I forgot to tell you about my Mother's initial reaction to my exhaustion and nausea Wednesday morning."

"You're kidding, right?"

"No," she laughed but mostly with her eyes. "She actually thought I might be pregnant. You should have heard her: 'Mac... you aren't by any chance,'" she told him, mimicking her Mother's tone.

Rod joined in her laughter before asking provocatively, "So... do you think we're still capable of such a thing?"

Mac turned her head to look more closely at him and gauge the seriousness of his question. "Rod, bite your tongue. That is so not an option... don't even joke about it."

"Okay," he said. "But if you don't start taking better care of yourself, I'm going to make it an option. Drastic times call for drastic measures, honey. And if you're pregnant... I know you'll take better care of yourself. Besides, another boy might really be fun."

"That's blackmail, Mr. Calloway."

"You better believe it, Madame President." He kissed her but then quickly left their bed.

"Where are you going?"

"To take that cold shower. All this baby talk has reminded me of all the fun we had making the three kids we do have."

Watching her husband's back as he hit the shower, Mackenzie really laughed. And for the first time in months, she felt truly content–as a wife, as a mother... and, regardless of Templeton's shenanigans, as the President of the United States. And the best news of all, she thought, was that they still had another whole day together.


	4. Highs & Lows: Happy Birthday Mad Pres

**Author's Note:** This chapter was co-authored by Denini and Misbehavin' with an assist from SK. Basically it is a continuation of _Happy Birthday Madame President_. It picks up where Mac is leaving her party to make some phone calls. As usual, the italicized text in the first part of this chapter is dialogue from the show.

The purpose of this story has always been to explore the impact of the presidency on the marriage of Rod and Mackenzie: its affect on them as individuals, how it has changed the dynamics of their relationship, and how it has changed them as individuals and as a couple–ultimately strengthening their marriage and bringing them closer together. This chapter continues that journey.

The conversation outside between Rod & Mackenzie is based upon their earlier conversation in her personal study about the military operation, the Delta team and her birthday. It is also derived from Mac's verbal and non-verbal actions and reactions from the time the team is ambushed until the end of the episode. Everything else, in our opinion, just completes her birthday celebration and takes them to an even greater level of understanding. And of course, all of it is purely for fun... because, after all, there can never be too much Rod and Mac.

**4. Highs and Lows**

Rod watched Mackenzie move towards the stairs. He knew the kind of day she'd had and where she was going. He was worried about her, so he'd been keeping a close eye on her. By the time he caught up with her she was almost to the landing on the stairs.

"_Is everything all right?"_ He put his hands in his pockets.

Mac stopped and turned around from below. _"Yeah... just have a couple of calls to make."_

Pointing back towards the party, Rod asked hesitantly, _"Was this okay?"_

"_This was wonderful."_

Her smile appeared genuine, but he still wasn't sure he'd made the right choice. _"Because I was kind of trapped. Everyone had already flown in. I mean, you can imagine how excited they were to see you."_

"_Rod,"_ she interrupted with a nod, _"I needed this."_ She thanked him with her eyes.

"_Yeah... you did."_

She momentarily looked at her shoes and then proceeded down the stairs.

Rod watched her with a closed-mouth grin, but concern in his eyes. He knew exactly what calls she'd be making. Well, he'd get back to playing host and give her a little time. But then he'd go after her.

XXXXXXXXXXXX

Mac walked through the Palm Room and out onto the West Colonnade before entering the West Wing and proceeding to her office. The place was almost totally deserted. Just as it should be on a Friday night, she thought. She sat down at her desk and seeing the three telephone numbers in front of her, she mentally prepared herself to make these calls. Generally, regardless of how trying or demanding things got, she loved her job. And she hoped to make a difference–to leave behind a real legacy of governing with strength, integrity and compassion.

At this moment, however, she hated her job. Her decision today had cost three young Americans their lives. She hadn't yet as President had to make the calls she'd momentarily be making. But tonight she did. She was where the buck stopped. She was the Commander in Chief. And tonight she had to explain her choice to three families who were still in shock, still reeling from the unexpected loss of their sons, their brothers, their fathers... their husbands.

Well, happy birthday to me. She'd meant what she'd told Rod. She did need the party tonight, needed to be with old friends who saw her as Mac and not only as President Allen. But she hadn't been able to truly enjoy the party, enjoy the conversations with her friends. The deaths of these young Americans, along with the hostages who'd been killed and all who had been wounded, weighed heavily on her mind and on her heart.

These phone calls especially weighed heavily on her. Mac picked up the telephone and made the first two calls. Afterwards, she put down the phone to gather her composure. Those calls were incredibly hard. But this one–to Diego Ortez's family–would be the most difficult. After a minute or two, she took a deep breath, again picked up the phone and dialed the corresponding number. When a little voice answered, she asked to speak with Diego's mother.

"_Mrs. Ortez, this is President Allen. I wanted to express my sorrow at the loss of your son... I know that there's little I could say to ease your pain. But I hope that there's some comfort in knowing that he gave his life saving many, many American lives... And his country will always be grateful for that and to you for the sacrifice you have given..._ Thank you for speaking with me and please convey my appreciation and condolences to the rest of Diego's family and loved ones... If I can ever be of assistance to you, please don't hesitate to call me... Goodnight, Mrs. Ortez."

Mac hung up the phone and leaned back in her chair. After a moment, however, she felt claustrophobic–like the office walls were closing in on her, like a vice was pressing on her soul. Standing, she walked out of the Oval and onto the little patio that was just outside. The pleasant, but cool, night air was just what she needed. She leaned against one of the columns and stared out into the darkness. She should get back to the party. But she just wasn't ready. She wasn't in the mood to party or even to converse. All she felt was sorrow, grief and ultimate responsibility. It was her fault that so many were suffering tonight. How could she then really celebrate under these conditions?

Rod had given his wife twenty minutes before following her down to the office. As he walked along the colonnade, he saw Mackenzie leaning against one of the columns, staring out across the South Lawn. She was deep in thought and didn't notice his approach. "Hey kiddo," he told her softly, putting an arm lightly around her shoulder and giving her a little squeeze.

Hearing his familiar voice and feeling his loving touch, she turned around and threw both of her arms around his neck in a fierce hug. She needed his strength. She'd been President for almost a year and had seen and experienced a great deal. But she'd never experienced anything close to this... never felt the burden of her Office like she did tonight. Her order today had directly led to the death of American service men.

Rod was initially surprised by her response. Usually she kept her emotions well in check. However, he knew what she'd just done and understood what she was feeling. She was the love of his life. They'd been together for more than twenty years. He was intimately acquainted with her soul–with her essence–and he knew what this was costing her. He could feel the tension and torment that racked her body. He was powerless to fix it, to ease her pain, to lighten her burden. All he could do was hold her tight and show her that she wasn't alone... remind her that she was never alone because he would always be at her side. He tightened his hold on her.

He felt her begin to shudder and quietly sob. He knew how important it was for her to be perceived as strong, to be seen as perfect; and that she hated to cry and to put her deepest feelings and emotions on display for all to see. He didn't know how long they stood like this, holding on to one another. But eventually he felt some of the tension leave and her body calm. He stepped back and looked her in the eye. Gently he brushed away the tears that had escaped. "I'm sorry, honey."

Mackenzie nodded and bent her head forward. Rod, of course, did the same until their foreheads touched. It was their symbol of unity and it always brought them a measure of peace. And peace, he thought, was something that was in too short of supply in the world.

Pulling away, she said, "Rod, it was awful..."

Sensing that she needed to talk, he took her by the hand and led her into the night. As he did, he looked at the agent standing post by her office door. "Give us a little space, would you? We won't be far. Just down by the putting green."

"Yes, sir."

The two walked down the pathway from the West Wing to the white bench at the base of the big Oak tree on the northwest corner of the South Lawn. Rod took off his jacket and draped it over the back of the bench. When they were seated, he brushed away the hair that had fallen across Mackenzie's face. "How can I help?"

"You can't. That's just it. Nobody can," she sighed. "I did it. It's my responsibility. Nobody else's."

"Honey, you had a decision to make–a very tough call," he put a hand on her knee. "You made the best decision you could. And if tomorrow you were presented with the same choice and the same circumstances, you'd make the same decision. You know that."

"You're right... I know, you're right. But I hate this, Rod. I really hate it. He was just a baby... and I sent him to his death. Me... I did it. I made the order."

"Ortez? The young guy close in age to Horace?"

"Yeah... talking to his mother, I felt like such a hypocrite and so guilty. I kept thinking about how I would feel if I'd been the one receiving the call. I would want to hate me... hate my title, hate everything about what I do and who I am."

He reached up and caressed her shoulder. "I know."

"You don't know, Rod. You can't know. You've never had to actually send our children into harm's way." Mac stood and walked onto the putting green, folding her arms tightly to her chest, and again staring into the darkness.

Rod followed her and from behind, wrapped his arms even tighter around her. He was relieved when he felt her relax a little and lean her head back against him. Softly he told her, "You're right. I can't know what you're going through and what you're feeling. Nobody can–except for maybe the few who've gone before you. But I know you better than anyone. And honey, there's no one–and I mean no one–I'd rather have making those decisions than you."

She turned in his arms and again hugged him as if he were a lifeline. "Just hold me."

Rod couldn't help but smile a little. "Always." He could live without a formal job, and he could put up with all of the jokes and teasing, so long as she needed him–really needed him. "I will always hold you and love you and be here for you... for as long as I live."

She pulled back a little and met his gaze. She'd heard the depth of his feelings in his voice and now she saw it in his eyes. After more than twenty years, it was still a miracle to her that he felt this way–that she truly was at the center of his world. He was also her rock, her anchor. And even when she was at her worst, he patiently stood by her and next to her and behind her. "I can't tell you how much I count on that. I know I don't say the words as often as I should, but you are the love of my life... and without you I'd be lost."

He bent his head at the same time as she raised hers. When their lips met it was as if every emotion of the day, the joy and the sorrow, the highs and the lows, came together at once in an explosion of passion and need. Eventually, Rod broke their rhythm. It was that, he thought, or put on a show for the Secret Service. Still holding his wife in his arms, he asked gently with a slight tilt of his head, "Feeling any better?"

"A little... I just don't know if I can do this again."

"You will do what needs to be done... what your Office requires. You will get some decisions right and you will make mistakes. But you will not run away. You will make the best choices possible and then you will live with the consequences."

Mac nodded, knowing he was right... but knowing didn't make it any easier.

Rod read the uncertainty behind her look of determination. "Mackenzie, do you know why there's no one I trust more than you to make these decisions?"

"Because you're blinded by love?"

"I am blinded by love, but that has nothing to do with it," he responded with his usual big grin.

However, then he turned quite serious. "Mac, it's because making these decisions will never be easy for you. You will never take your role as Commander in Chief lightly. You are a wife. You are a mother. You know what it's like to nurture and carry a child and to bring that child into this world. You understand the cost. You understand how fragile and how precious life is. You are strong and you are wise. And you have more courage, compassion and love in your heart than a thousand men." He paused momentarily. Then with a little mischief in his eyes, he added, "And all of that is true even when you're stubborn and bossy and kind of 'a know it all.'"

She hit him in the chest, but also tilted her head and smiled.

It was a warm smile he could feel even through the darkness.

Mac reached up and caressed his face. "Thank you..."

He bent his head and again kissed her, only this time with exquisite tenderness. "Now, Madame, are you ready to leave your president hat in the Oval Office and put on your birthday hat instead?"

"I am, Mr. Calloway." Knowing that he really did understand, and that she wasn't alone, somehow made everything bearable.

"Good," he said retrieving his jacket from the bench and placing it around her shoulders. "Because there are a lot of people upstairs who are anxious to catch up with Mackenzie Spencer Allen Calloway. And I think she needs to catch up with them, too."

And with that, President and First Gentleman, husband and wife, friend and lover, walked arm in arm into the Residence through the Diplomatic Reception Room and back upstairs where everyone was waiting for them, pausing only briefly to make a few facial repairs in the ground floor bathroom along the way.

XXXXXXXXXXX

As they rejoined the party, Mac was relieved to find that no one had really noticed their absence. She still felt the burden of the day but it somehow seemed lighter and definitely less consuming. Though she continued to feel guilty about celebrating when so many others were tonight grieving, she put on a happy face–particularly when a huge cake was wheeled in and everyone in the room sang _Happy Birthday_ to her loudly and off-key. Looking around at her friends and her family, she had to admit that it was nice to be surrounded by such love and support–especially tonight.

Not long after the singing and the disbursement of the cake, the party began to die down. All three kids had fled to their rooms just as quickly as they'd been allowed; and even Kate had disappeared. Soon Rod and Mac were left chatting only with Tony and Mary Prado, Carl and Sue Brantley, and a few of Mac's oldest girlfriends who were spending the night at the White House.

While they were talking, Carl noticed the look of concern in Rod's eyes and just how closely he was watching his wife. Catching his eye with a nod of understanding, Carl approached Mac and put his arm around her shoulder. "Ready for a recap of Mac Allen's greatest hits?" He, too, knew the kind of day she'd had and he hoped reminiscing about simpler days would help ease her burden and allow her to unwind. Besides, it's tradition, he thought... and she was long overdue.

She turned to him with a sweet smile. "Be kind, old friend, your birthday isn't that far off you know. I might be a year older, but my memory isn't."

"Bring it on... because all of my dirty laundry has already been aired thanks to the confirmation hell you put me through." Carl moved to the middle of the room and announced, "Alright everyone, gather around. It's time we discussed the many adventures of Mackenzie Allen before she found respectability."

Immediately understanding what Carl had in mind Rod suggested, "Why don't we move into the Yellow Oval Room where it's more comfortable." The Yellow Oval Room sits in the center of the second floor and leads to the Truman Balcony. He thought the group, especially Mac's girlfriends who were here for the first time, might enjoy the spectacular views of the Washington Monument and Jefferson Memorial... and he hoped it would help his wife truly relax and enjoy herself.

The group readily followed Rod and once they were all present and accounted for, Tony and Carl led Mac to an overstuffed chair. "You have to be comfortable for what's to come," Tony told her with a smile.

Mac shook her head, slightly embarrassed. She knew precisely what was to come. It was a tradition that dated back to their college and law school days. Whenever they were all together for someone's birthday, the one having the birthday typically ended up the butt of many jokes and humiliating stories. In the past, she'd usually made sure to be otherwise occupied when her birthday came around. However tonight, it appeared her time had come. Nevertheless, she raised her eyebrow at her Attorney General and National Security Advisor. "Just remember who it is you both work for."

"We may serve at the pleasure of the President," Carl responded wryly as he and Tony found seats next to their wives, "but that doesn't mean we can't have a little fun with her, too."

Rod filled the vacancy left by the two men and perched himself on the arm of Mac's chair, draping an arm around the back of it, and gently beginning to knead the muscles in her neck. Briefly their eyes met and he was pleased to receive an intimate look of appreciation.

Soon everyone relaxed and the stories flowed. Lisa, who was one of Mac's closest friends began sharing what they would do on boring afternoons when they were home from college.

"Mackenzie has always loved fooling people for laughs. One time after seeing _Mystic_ we stood outside of the train station in New York pretending we were tour guides. Mac had this great idea of telling all the tourists that we were actually in the movie as extras and that Julia Robert's had bought us a pizza... " Lisa laughed. " She had these people so convinced, they even asked us for autographs. Or we'd pretend to be clueless tourists ourselves from somewhere in Iowa... or Utah, who were very afraid of the big, dirty city and worried that we would be murdered in the subway or kidnapped by a cab driver."

"It kept us busy didn't it? It was either that or sit home on the deck with binoculars and see what Carl was up to in his bedroom... which usually wasn't too much," Mac responded with a straight face aimed directly at her oldest friend.

"Now that is untrue. Plenty went on up there. I just think your memory is slipping... or maybe you just weren't invited."

Mac rolled her eyes. "Right how could I forget, Friday night movie night... yeah, we were wild."

"But all that changed during our trip to Europe," Sue said giving Mac a knowing look.

Tony laughed, "I still have the pictures of you two stomping grapes at that vineyard in Italy."

Mac and Sue both cracked up. "I was Lucy and Sue was Ethel. We wore white peasant skirts and blouses with colored bandana's on our head and we sang Madonna songs as we stomped the grapes in this huge tub. It was our own version of _I love Lucy_."

Sue laughed. "Yeah, and during our rendition of _Vogue_, Mac slipped and ended up flat on her face from striking a pose. She had a huge purple stain from head to toe and grape juice running down her legs."

"As I recall," Carl added, "her face and legs were stained for days. It looked like some horrendous birth mark."

At this point, imagining just how ridiculous she must have looked, Rod could no longer contain his laughter. "Tony, I've got to get a copy of that photo. We may want to someday include it in the Mackenzie Allen Presidential Library or in the mean time we could just hang it over the fireplace." He gestured back over his shoulder to the fireplace that sat in the center of the room.

"Perfect... I'll blow it up for you to I don't know, say 24 by 36 inches. Or even better, it would make a fantastic campaign poster," Tony joked back.

"That is so not going to happen," Mac quickly spoke up. "That picture should be burned. If the kids ever saw that I would never live it down."

"It's not the kids you should be worried about," Carl said dryly, "it's Templeton."

"Oh god," Mac groaned.

"What you really should be concerned about is whether there are any photos of you skinny dipping during our spring break in Cancun," added Anne, another one of her college friends. "Oh, the crazy things we used to do after a few beers... or in Mac's case after a single shot of Tequila."

"Alright," Carl interrupted looking at his watch, "this is more than I want to know about my boss... besides as the country's leading law enforcement officer, I require deniability and a full night's sleep." He got up, and knowing that Sue would be spending the night with the girls, he told her with a kiss, "Have fun. I'll see you in the morning."

Carl shook Rod's hand before giving Mac a kiss on the cheek. " Happy Birthday, sport."

She smiled at him thankfully.

"We're going to head out too, before the hitch hiking in Spain stories begin and I get in real trouble," Tony said as he and Mary, too, prepared to leave.

Mac stood up and, as she gave Tony a hug, jokingly said, "You just had to bring up Spain didn't you. Now I'm going to have to suffer through Rod's terrible Ricky Ricardo imitation, 'Lucy… you got some explainin' to do.'"

Everyone laughed at her own terrible impersonation.

"Well, if you're going to be telling tales, Madame President, don't forget about the topless beaches on the French Riviera," Tony whispered loud enough for Rod to hear.

Mac groaned while Rod raised an eyebrow. "Now that sounds like my kind of story. Honey, can I get you to stage a re-enactment later tonight?"

Mac reddened and momentarily covered her face with a hand. Then she looked back at her National Security Advisor and instructed in a very presidential tone, "Tony, I expect you in your office tomorrow no later than six a.m."

"But it's Saturday."

"Exactly."

Tony, too, groaned. "Does Carl get to come, too?" he asked hopefully.

"No, I'm giving him a reprieve until seven," the President responded dryly as she looked in the direction of her Attorney General, who simply winked at her in return.

"Can I get a little help here?" Tony asked Rod as he patted him on the back.

Rod grinned. "Don't worry, Tony. I know just how to distract her," he responded as he appraised his wife with a lingering glance.

Tony smiled. "Good news, Mary," he said, turning his full attention to his own wife, "I think I've just been given a day off."

"Be careful, Tony... or I might just change my mind," Mac told him as she again sat down.

Tony bowed. "Good night, Madame President and Happy Birthday."

"I'll walk you all out." But before Rod joined their three friends, he leaned down and whispered in his wife's ear, "You have no more than an hour to hang out here, then you have an appointment in our bedroom birthday girl. I still haven't given you my gift." He was rewarded with a definite gleam in her eye. He gave her a wink and then followed behind the Prados and Carl.

After Rod left, the four women really began to visit in earnest, catching up with each other and their respective careers and kids. None of them could get over the fact that one of them had really become the President of the United States. Even Mac agreed that it all seemed surreal.

After approximately an hour, Mac excused herself. She urged her three friends to make themselves at home and promised that she would see them at breakfast.

XXXXXXXXXXXX

When she walked into their bedroom, Mackenzie found it lit only by subtly scented candles. There were also rose pedals everywhere and music played softly in the background. "Rod?"

"Hey," he responded huskily, coming out of their bathroom and walking towards her.

Mac first noticed the cocky grin he sported... and then she saw why. He was wearing black silk shorts covered with little pairs of red lips and a T-shirt which read: "I serve only at the pleasure of the President of the United States." She smiled broadly and allowed herself to conduct her own lingering appraisal. As she did so, her desire for him rapidly began to overwhelm her. This goofy, sweet, playful–but very sexy, side of her husband had, from the day they'd met, always been her undoing.

"Maybe," she told him as he placed his hands around her waist, "I should order everyone in the Administration to wear that shirt."

"No ma'am," he said closing the remaining distance between them, "this is strictly a one of a kind item... and only for very special occasions." He bent his head and began to place feather light kisses on her throat and neck. He heard her sigh and felt her body begin to respond. "Now, how about staging that topless re-enactment for me... or better yet, how about a skinny dipping demonstration."

He didn't wait for a response, but very slowly he began to undress her. She made a move to do the same to him, but he stopped her. "All in good time, Madame... all in good time." A short time later, he finished his task and visually inspected the results. She still took his breath away and he was powerless to take his eyes off of her.

Seeing as how she was now naked and he was still fully clothed, Mac said, "I think you've got me at a definite disadvantage, Mr. Calloway."

"That's the idea, Madame President." He smiled and led her to the oversized sunken whirlpool tub. Mac noticed the bathroom, too, was lit only by candles. There was a vase of roses and a bottle of champagne chilling in ice on the edge of the tub.

Once she was settled in the tub, Rod opened and poured the champagne, handed her a glass, and in a toast said, "Here's to you and your disadvantage. Although, perhaps after what I learned tonight, I should have just given you a little Tequila instead." He laughed when he saw the look she gave him in return. It was a look he knew well. A look which said clearly, _"you don't really expect me to dignify that with a response, do you?"_

He put down his own glass and leaned over the tub until his face was within inches of hers. "Happy Birthday, Mackenzie." He ran one hand through her hair and kissed her, gently at first but then with increasing hunger and fervor until he heard an audible moan escape her lips.

"Are you going to join me?" she asked breathlessly.

"No," he teased, "I thought I'd just sit here and enjoy the view." Within fifteen seconds, however, he had shed his own clothes and was seated behind her, again kissing her neck and doing all kinds of pleasurable things with his hands.

Mac leaned back against him and sighed. What a perfect gift, she thought. "I can't remember the last time we did this."

"Oh... I can remember a night when you were the VP and all the kids were gone and the power was out."

"Oh yeah..." she remembered fondly. "But before the kids we used to do this all the time."

"Ah... the good old days," Rod said wistfully.

Mac turned in his arms so that she could really see his face. "They've all been pretty good."

"Honey, except for the very few days when we've really been fighting, they've been great. We've been very blessed."

"Yeah... we have," she said with a nod, still studying his face. She knew he meant what he told her about them being good together, but she also saw something painful lurking deep in his always expressive eyes. "You're thinking about the week of the State of the Union, aren't you?"

He didn't say anything.

"That was completely my fault, you know... not yours. You did nothing wrong..."

"Honey," he interrupted passionately, "don't. It's over."

"Yeah, but I see the hesitance sometimes in your eyes, hear it in your voice. I hate myself for that... and for taking everything out on you." She looked down, still embarrassed over the way she'd treated him.

"Mac, look at me." He gently lifted her chin up towards him. "I'm okay. I'm glad you use me as an outlet. It lets me know you need me. Now granted, I prefer loving to fighting... but I've got big shoulders, I can take either."

She looked at him with thanks and understanding, a small smile on her lips.

"Mackenzie, I won't lie to you. This year's been a hard one for me... for us. So many adjustments and not much time and space to process them all. But honey, we're still here... still together... still in love. And that is all that really matters."

Mac caressed her husband's cheek. With her eyes she conveyed to him all that he meant to her. Then without uttering a word, she reached up and pulled him into a deep and passionate kiss, just as she'd done the night she'd asked him to stay with her instead of taking the job in New York.

Rod responded to her heated embrace whole heartedly and their passions were once again ignited.

Trying desperately not to break the moment, Mac attempted to position herself to better access him. But it proved to be much more difficult than she'd anticipated.

Watching her struggle, a small chuckle of amusement escaped from Rod. "Need some help honey?" he joked, with a sexy grin playing across his lips.

Mac laughed. "This just isn't as easy as I remember."

"Oh... I think we can still pull it off." Rod kissed her again, shifting his position and ultimately encountering the same difficulties as his wife. He tried moving in every angle he could think of before finally giving up with a sigh. And with the most serious of expressions on his face, but a playful tone in his voice, he said, "I think we're getting too old for this, kiddo."

Mac laughed and while running her fingers through his hair, told him seductively, "Rod, we'll never be too old." She shook her head slightly. "We just might have to be more creative." A huge grin formed on her lips as her gaze met his, her eyes full of desire.

Rod returned her grin and her urges. He spoke in an equally seductive tone, "What do you say we go get creative in bed? No reason we can't celebrate there, too."

Mac nodded anxiously. "Let's go."

Stepping out of the tub their playfulness soon turned into the most sensual act they had experienced together in a very long time. Rod helped his wife dry herself as she did the same for him. Allowing their hands and lips to linger on their most sensitive areas and never for very long allowing their kisses to cease, they continued this foreplay all they way into the bedroom. And by the time they hit their bed, they were both completely lost in each other and overcome by desire.

A few minutes later, however, Mac broke from their love making, causing Rod to groan in protest. "Rod wait, did you lock the door?"

He stopped kissing her neck and looked up, momentarily not processing why she would stop to ask.

"We haven't exactly had the best luck lately of uninterrupted intimacy, remember?"

Rod placed a kiss on her lips. "Oh... I took care of that small problem. We won't be interrupted tonight unless it's a serious emergency."

"How exactly did you take care of it?" she asked, amused at the lengths he would go to make this night both unforgettable and flawless in its execution.

He propped himself on his elbow beside her and with his free hand lightly explored the contours of her body. "Well, Amy is having a sleep-over with Rebecca. Trust me, if she wakes up anyone tonight it won't be us."

The sensation from his hands on her made it difficult to think rationally but she was able to muster a quiet, "And just how did you manage that?"

He grinned, seeing the effect he was having on her. "I told her that in return we would let her go on that weekend trip with Stacy and her parents."

Mac grinned. "But we were going to let her go anyway."

"Uh huh, but she didn't know that."

"And they say politicians are devious."

"I learned from the best, Madame... only the best. Now are you really complaining, Mrs. Calloway?"

Mac tilted her head teasingly, "Only about the fact that you aren't kissing me."

Rod smiled at his wife and again joined his lips with hers, pausing only to say, "Happy Birthday, Madame President."

That night, almost for the first time since they'd moved into the White House, there were no interruptions and they were finally allowed to truly finish what they'd started, making it a very memorable birthday celebration indeed.


End file.
